


Ben Hanscom Keeps a Secret

by novasuper



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Ben Hanscom is a Good Friend, Canon-Typical Violence, Fainting, Fever, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Missing Scene, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier Needs a Hug, Sickfic, Vomiting, Whump, i mean there's a description of henry's death but it's very canon so, it widely acknowledges that richie loves eddie but nothing really happens between them, nothing really happens between ben and bev either, they're all there to deliver
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 13:22:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21410857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novasuper/pseuds/novasuper
Summary: "Are you feeling okay, Richie?""Never better." Richie grumbles as Ben comes to a second realization: Richie isn't shaking with anger – he's shivering."Come here." He says and puts his palm to Richie's forehead, which Richie swats away irritably, but it was enough. "Richie, I think you have a fever."(Prompt fill.)
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 7
Kudos: 193





	Ben Hanscom Keeps a Secret

**Author's Note:**

  * For [taylor_tut](https://archiveofourown.org/users/taylor_tut/gifts).

> @taylor_tut and i exchanged prompts and this is the prompt she asked of me:
> 
> _I really love the trope where the group knows that a character isn't up for whatever they're doing (like trying to find a way to fight a giant clown lol) but it's too important and they don't have any time to stop and rest._
> 
> the title mimics stephen king's style of naming the book's chapters. enjoy!

When a rigid-looking Richie walks into the Townhouse and spits out a harsh "Move. _Move,_" at Ben and Beverly, who are seated on the stairs, Ben can immediately feel his own panic rising without Richie even having to explain anything.

At first he believes it to be the same primeval sense of panic that seizes every cell in his body when It is playing tricks on his mind, the same one that has undoubtedly prompted Richie to announce that he was leaving. But Ben himself has just fought off a bout of such panic half an hour ago, and so, as he's chasing Richie up the stairs, he gradually grows unsure. No, it's not that; but Ben is struggling to put his finger on what it _is_. It's only when Richie slams his room's door behind him and in Ben's face, that he realizes it is a panic that feels suspiciously like loneliness.

Ben spent 27 years not even realizing he was lonely. He had been going about his life believing he was happy with his new and healthy lifestyle, his innovative buildings, and not one true friend to save his life. Except somehow, it wasn't until Mike called that he realized – _he didn't have one true friend to save his life_. The concept of loneliness instantly began to trickle back then, seeping into his bones in the form of fragmented images: a yearbook devoid of signatures, days squandered away in a library. _'The New Kid'_.

Yes, there was fright there when Mike called, but there was also… a strange sort of relief. Like when you step out of a freezing building and only realize how much you missed the sun when it finally hits your face. And when he saw all of the others in the restaurant; when they laughed together again; when more and more memories of _friendship_ were resurfacing in him – Ben couldn't fathom how he had spent his life in the freezing loneliness for so long.

The bad memories have been resurfacing too, but Ben has also remembered his friends' bravery, their determination, their loyalty. He was so proud of each and every one of them back then, and it fills his chest just as much now. Call him an optimist, but with his brave friends by his side, Ben has truly felt like they can slay the beast.

(_And now, I'm gonna have to kill this fucking clown._)

Which is why, Ben realizes as he knocks on Richie's door and calls his name, Richie's upset and cold tone has struck a chord with him like that. The Richie that Ben remembers had fire in his eyes as he insulted It, grabbed a baseball bat and charged at the clown with everything he had. The Richie that barely looked Ben in the eyes moments ago is anything but. It's like Richie became a ghost of himself over the past 27 years, and if _Richie_ isn't _Richie_, then who knows if any of them are half of who they used to be. Then who knows if they can even fucking do this. If they aren't, then it means that the _Ben_ he is now has never stopped being lonely, not even upon returning to Derry, and that thought terrifies him. It's a crippling dread that they are the losers, the best of friends – but maybe also just a bunch of strangers, and maybe he doesn't know Richie at all.

"Go away." Richie calls out to him from behind the door, in that same dead-inside tone, and Ben's stomach does another flip.

"Come on, Rich." He tries to twist the doorknob, which is gladly unlocked, so he enters uninvited. Richie is in the process of throwing a pile of clothes into his suitcase, his movements mechanical yet erratic, and he doesn't spare Ben a single glance. "Come on, you're not going anywhere." He coaxes.

"Watch me."

"What did It show you? Whatever it was, it wasn't real."

Richie throws his toothbrush and toothpaste into the suitcase. "Yeah, you'd think so."

Ben isn't sure what Richie means by that. "Richie, I know you're scared—"

"Do you?!" Richie meets Ben's eyes and raises his voice so abruptly and unexpectedly that Ben takes half a step back. His whole body is shaking and there's a sheen of sweat on his forehead, which Ben attributes to his anger at first. "Do you really?! 'Cause it sure feels like I'm the only one who's losing his goddamn mind out there, haystack!" His fingers are trembling so hard he drops what he's holding. "Fuck," he mutters under his breath.

Ben rushes to pick it up for him. It's a small, round token that Ben vaguely remembers seeing in Derry's arcade as a child. He hands it over to Richie despite the latter insisting that he should just _throw it away, 'cause I ain't staying_. He wants to give Richie a look, but now that he's standing closer to him, Ben realizes that Richie's face isn't just sweaty. It's also pale.

Ben ends up giving him a different kind of look. "Are you feeling okay, Richie?"

"Never better." Richie grumbles as Ben comes to a second realization: Richie isn't shaking with anger – he's shivering.

"Come here." He says and puts his palm to Richie's forehead, which Richie swats away irritably, but it was enough. "Richie, I think you have a fever."

The Richie he remembers would say something along the lines of _'It's not a fever, I'm just one hot piece of ass. Just ask Eddie's mom.'_ The Richie of reality, however, rubs his eyes without taking off his glasses and says, "I'm fine. Why don't you just worry about yourself, Ben? As I was saying—"

"I do worry about myself," Ben cuts him off, because there's no heat in Richie's voice anymore and Ben sees an opening. "But I also worry about you. Because you're my friend, Richie."

Richie sighs and drops his hand to hang beside his body, all the fight gone out of him. He avoids Ben's gaze and Ben steps in again, placing the back of his fingers on Richie's cheek, and Richie lets him this time. Yeah, that's a fever alright. Ben doesn't suppose it's very high, but it's clearly enough to make his friend feel… icky. His eyes are shut, undoubtedly because they're burning, and he shivers again.

"Did you get any sleep last night?" Ben asks.

"No. Not really."

Ben nods and tries to guide Richie onto the bed. Richie shakes off the hand on his shoulder in what little defiance he has left, but he does sit down and rests his forehead in his hands, his elbows on his knees. He looks miserable, and Ben's heart goes out to him. "What do you feel?" He asks. He isn't Eddie, he only knows the basics of the medical ropes, but he deeply wants to help.

Richie exhales and looks up, willing to cooperate. "My head is killing me," he provides, "and I'm kind of cold and overall nauseous."

"Uh, finally the interior matches the nauseating exterior." Ben says in an attempt to cheer his friend up. It works. Richie gives him a resigned smile and he doesn't need to say anything for Ben to know he appreciates him trying. "The others aren't back yet. Why don't you try and get some sleep and I'll come wake you up when—" he stops himself, worried he might scare Richie off again after he has just managed to calm him down. He settles for, "When they're back."

"Yeah, okay."

Ben goes into the bathroom and by the time he returns with a glass of water, Richie is already sprawled on the bed, his glasses on the bedside table. He accepts the water as well as the Advil that Ben hands him, then he shuts his eyes and curls into a fetal position.

"Goodnight," Ben says. He resists the urge to say it’ll be okay.

"Hey, man," Richie opens his eyes and in them there's a pleading look. "Don't tell the others, okay?"

Ben doesn't like keeping secrets, but Richie has had a shittier day than the rest of them and Ben doesn't have to heart to refuse. "Okay. Get better soon," _because we have a demon-clown to fight and we can't do this without you,_ is what he doesn't say.

He closes the door behind him and immediately hears agitated voices coming from downstairs. If he didn't rush over there to check what was going on, maybe he would hear that the sounds of packing behind the door started anew. But he does, and so he will only find out an hour later that Richie has disappeared.

He doesn’t really have time to worry about it though. Between Eddie getting stabbed in the face and Henry Bowers becoming part of the equation again, Ben admittedly forgets about the ill Richie’s disappearance.

He did go into his room to wake him up and tell him what happened with Eddie, but seeing the empty bed had taken all the wind out of his sails. With Eddie getting attacked, Bill taking off on his own and Richie leaving, Ben feels like he’s trying to close off a dam using only his hands: for every hole that he seals, two new ones form; for every Loser braving through, two are slipping out of Ben’s fingers. Another sharp sting of loneliness settles in his chest as he goes back down the stairs. Before he can tell them Richie was gone though, Beverly asks him to get Eddie’s first aid kit from his room, and Ben forgets.

The two of them become preoccupied with trying to get Eddie’s cheek to stop bleeding, as well as get the man out of his shock. Eddie’s whole body is stiff and he’s clutching the blanket that Beverly wrapped around his shoulders. Ben is doing his best disinfecting and bandaging the side of Eddie’s face, but apparently he isn’t doing the most gentle job, because Eddie flinches at a rough movement of his fingers (_“Ow!” –“Sorry, hold still!” –“Then don’t poke me!”_). It’s enough to get Eddie to loosen back up though, and when Ben is done, Beverly gives them both a small smile and a thumbs up.

“Does it look bad?” Eddie asks again.

“It looks… tough.” Beverly says unconvincingly. Eddie rolls his eyes. Then she looks to Ben. “I can’t believe he’s here.” She adds, undoubtedly talking about Bowers. “It’s Pennywise, right? It has to be.”

“Probably.” Ben stands up with a troubled exhale. “We should go. Mike’s waiting for us at the library.”

Beverly nods. “I’ll go get Richie.”

Eddie starts to mumble something that sounds like _‘oh, he’s never gonna let me live this cheek thing down’_, when Ben cuts in with a loud, “Shit!”

Both of his friends tense up immediately. “What?”

“Richie…” Ben trails off, unsure how much to disclose. “Richie’s gone. I thought I got him to stay but when I went to get him earlier, his room was empty.”

Beverly’s eyes widen as Eddie says incredulously, “are you fucking kidding me?” Ben shakes his head and Eddie adds, “that _asshole_.”

“We can’t do this without him.” Beverly whispers, her voice almost inaudible with dread, and Ben cringes, because he gets it. “It has to be all of us.”

“Fuck!” Eddie starts pacing agitatedly around the lobby. “I can’t believe he did this to us. I got thrown up at by a fucking leper and got stabbed in the fucking face just for that asshole to _take off_?” The anger simmering in his voice is 100% pure betrayal, and Ben cringes again. He knows that Richie’s terror at this whole experience must have been heightened by the sickness, and so unlike Eddie he can’t really blame Richie for his cold feet. He wants to tell them, but he promised, so he keeps his mouth shut. It doesn’t matter now anyway.

“Come on. With or without Richie, we need to get to Mike.” He says. Beverly and Eddie nod, and the three exit the Townhouse and pile into Ben’s car.

He can still feel Eddie’s rage at Richie’s desertion radiating from the backseat as they head to the library, and he sure hopes for Richie’s sake he won’t run into Eddie anytime soon. The drive takes place in complete, tense silence. He tries calling Richie on the way, but the calls keep going to voicemail, and Eddie’s irritation tangibly grows with each one. Ben himself is just frustrated and discouraged beyond words, but mostly he feels lonely. Just lonely. It makes him wish, not without shame, that they were all children again; before time and subconscious fear wore them away. The leaking dam feeling fills his head again.

That is, until he sees Richie’s red car parked in front of the library. Ben’s heart instantly grows three sizes. He’s about to point it out to the others, but now that they’re out of the car, they hear the shouts.

They run inside as one, pushing the door open so hard to slams into the opposite wall, and come to a halt in front of one gruesome sight. Henry Bowers’ lifeless body is sprawled face down on the floor, an honest to god _axe_ protruding out of his scalp. Mike is scrambling to his feet, panting heavily, and Richie turns around to face them, wiping his mouth. Ben’s brain short-circuits.

“Man, are you alright?!”

“No, I’m not alright! I just fucking killed a guy!” Richie snaps back, and Ben blinks twice.

“I was… talking to Mike.”

The silence that follows is tense. However, it only lasts about 5 seconds because the next thing he knows, Eddie is pushing past him and shoves Richie in the shoulder, hard.

“What the fuck were you thinking, asshole?!” He yells in Richie’s face. Richie takes a step back, wincing. That’s when Ben registers the vomit on the floor. “Taking off?! Are you fucking kidding me, dickwad?!” Richie is a lot paler than Ben remembers, it’s noticeable even in the dim light.

“Eddie, we don’t have time for this.” Mike tries to break it off, but Eddie is on a roll now.

“We’re supposed to be here for each other!” _Is he swaying a little?_ “That was low, Trashmouth, even for you! It was low and selfish and—”

“Eddie…” Richie interrupts quietly, but he trails off. Like his adrenaline is wearing off.

“What?!”

Ben moves before Eddie can even finish the syllable.

He catches Richie just in time to break the other man’s fall. His lanky frame crumples into his arms and Eddie’s, who responds with surprised and yet surprisingly quick reflexes. They lower Richie down to the floor as Mike and Beverly rush closer. Richie’s eyes are closed and his head lolls in Eddie’s lap, and Ben puts a hand to his face.

His stomach sinks.

“Holy—” he snatches his palm away. “It wasn’t nearly this high before!”

Eddie’s head snaps to look at him. “What do you mean, ’before’??”

“He…” Ben’s words die in his throat. He takes in the other Losers’ worried eyes and tries again. “He wasn’t feeling well, earlier. At the Townhouse. I found out when I tried to get him to stay.” He confesses. “He had a low fever, but I gave him an Advil and told him to get some sleep. I didn’t think—”

“It’s the exertion.” Eddie determines before Ben can spiral into full-fledged guilt. He taps Richie’s cheeks gently. “Rich! Richie! Can you hear me?”

Richie stirs with a grimace, but he doesn’t wake per se. “I’ll go see if there’s anything in the library kitchenette that can help.” Mike says and springs up running. Beverly takes his spot and takes Richie’s hand in hers.

“He’s really burning up.” She says softly, voice laced with concern. “Richie. Open your eyes, honey, please.” And well. Richie could never say no to Beverly.

His eyes flutter open and he looks up blearily, blinking at Eddie’s face hovering above his.

“Eds?” he croaks, “What the fuck’d you do to your face?”

“Shut up.” Eddie says and shakes his head, his words coming out shaky. “I’m so sorry, Richie, I had no idea you were this sick.”

At these words, it seems to sink in with Richie exactly in whose lap he’s lying and he moves to get away from the germaphobe member of the Losers. All three of them immediately push him back down. “I don’t want you to get sick too, Eddie.”

“I don’t care, dumbass.” Eddie shakes his head again (although, Ben thinks, judging by the green tint of his face, maybe he cares a little. Ben admires his bravery).

“Why didn’t you tell us you were sick?” Beverly asks.

“We had enough on our plate.” He says weakly. “Boggart huntin’ an’ all.”

“Idiot.” Eddie grumbles. “Now tell me exactly what you feel.”

Richie shuts his eyes again. “My head hurts,” he mutters, “my muscles hurt. Dizzy.”

“Any nausea?”

“Little better now that I puked.”

“Cold?”

Richie nods.

“Here.” Ben starts taking off his jacket for Richie to put on, but Eddie gesticulates he stops.

“Don’t.” He asserts. “We need to bring his fever down, not help it.”

Richie pipes up again. “Aww, you ruined Ben’s romantic gesture, Eds. Get someone who treats you like Ben Hanscom would, tha’s what I say. No one ever offered to give me their jacket before, y’know? I always wanted to offer it to you when we were kids, but I always chickened out and told some joke instead even though I hated seeing you cold but I’m such chickenshit I didn’ say anythin’…” His words are slurring and his rambling is sort of dreamy, like he isn’t entirely aware of what’s coming out of his mouth. Beverly and Ben exchange worried looks, and the second Ben looks into the winter-fire-haired girl’s eyes, the realization clicks in his mind.

Oh. _Oh_.

“Richie, you’re delirious.” A blissfully oblivious Eddie starts dabbing Richie’s sweaty forehead with the edge of his shirt. Richie’s glassy eyes open again, and he takes a deep breath.

“How did It know?” He asks no one in particular, his gaze full of fear.

“Knew what, Trashmouth?”

Richie starts shaking his head fervently, his gaze thankfully coming into more focus. His eyes meet Ben’s.

_Whatever it was, it wasn't real._

_Yeah, you'd think so._

Maybe Richie has been corroded by more than Its shadow all those years. Maybe Richie discovered more than a just monster upon returning to Derry. Maybe the reason Richie was so freaked out – except for the edge brought on by the fever – was that he suddenly met the man he wanted to give his jacket to as a kid, and he hadn’t even remembered him. Maybe that scared him just as much as the monster that took Stan.

No wonder Richie wasn’t _Richie_ back at the Townhouse. It was really a testimony to what 27 years might do to a man, 27 years of erosion by a secret you don't even know you have. More than just Its darkness has been blooming in Richie’s heart ever since they came back; if Richie felt half as strongly as Ben felt upon seeing Beverly, there is no doubt in Ben’s mind that Pennywise used Eddie against him, just as it used Beverly.

If Eddie planned to press any further, it was put on hold by Mike’s loud return.

“Okay.” He kneels next to the other Losers and unloads the supplies he procured. “I got Tylenol, water. I also got this,” he gives Eddie a damp washcloth wrapped around a whole tray’s worth of ice cubes, to which Eddie nods approvingly and places it on Richie’s forehead.

Richie shivers, but releases a content sigh at the cool material. “You’re a prince amon’Losers, Mike.”

Mike smiles at him. “That’s a nice upgrade.” He and Eddie help Richie rise up a little so that he can take the Tylenol and drink the water.

He drops back down on Eddie’s lap and his eyes slide shut again. “Thanks, guys. M’sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it, honey.” Beverly croons. She’s still holding Richie’s palm; her thumb is drawing circles on the back of it.

“Sleep for a bit, Rich.” Eddie coaxes. “You’ll feel better if you do.”

Richie doesn’t need to be told twice. His breaths are already even and his lips are slightly parted, dead to the world before Eddie even finished his sentence. Mike shoots Eddie a hesitant look.

“Eddie…”

“No, Mike.” Eddie takes Richie’s glasses off his face.

“We really don’t have time—”

“He can barely stand, Mike.” Beverly cuts in when Eddie opens his mouth, undoubtedly to raise his voice. She didn’t want him to wake Richie.

“They’re right, man.” Ben adds his support. “He needs rest. Just for a little while, then we’ll see. Sounds good?”

Mike, outnumbered, gives in. “Fine,” he says resignedly, “we still have to wait for Bill to show up anywa—” He doesn’t finish the sentence, looks around and asks, “Where’s Bill?”

The phone call to Bill leaves them all shaken. Richie is still out like a light as Mike briefs them in about the ritual, his agitation regarding the time is visibly growing. Ben and Eddie have stripped Richie of his jacket and T-shirt and relocated the burning, shivering man to Beverly’s lap. She’s been playing with his hair and Eddie is currently fiddling with the soft skin between Richie’s slender fingers, probably applying some kind of pressure-points magic Ben was never sure he actually believed in. But it gave them both something to do, which Ben envies them for.

He looks at Richie, sleeping deeply yet fitfully in Bev’s lap, and his heart clenches guiltily. He really should have said something. This is exactly why Ben hates keeping secrets; nothing good can come of them. He looks away in shame and makes a mental note to himself never to listen to Richie again. The man clearly doesn’t know what’s good for himself – although this thought doesn’t make him feel any better. He promises himself that if they make it out of this shitshow alive, he’ll start listening to his instincts.

Just as Mike stands up abruptly, probably to declare they can’t wait any longer, Richie’s head whips. The now lukewarm washcloth falls off his forehead. He jolts awake and shoots upwards with a gasp, which makes all the three of them jump out of their skins.

“Hey, hey!” Eddie grabs Richie’s face, forcing him to look at him. Richie’s gasping for air and squeezing his eyes shut over and over, tears spilling from their corners. Eddie looks Richie's eyes over and puts his lips to the taller man’s forehead. Ben remembers this gesture. _‘You have to check for fever with your lips, guys’_, he told them some late night at the clubhouse, when they somehow let him talk them into a first aid course. _‘your skin is a lot more sensitive there’_.

“Eh-Eddie,” Richie pants and leans into the contact, clutching at Eddie’s shirt, and Ben knows that what Pennywise showed him, and this nightmare, have something in common. “He… It… Fuck…”

“It’s okay,” Eddie reassures as Richie lets out a sob, “you’re okay, Rich, it wasn’t real. It was just a fever dream.”

Beverly is rubbing Richie’s back, and Ben joins her. “Not Pennywise, Trashmouth. Just a regular fever dream.” He repeats Eddie’s words with a smile. “That’s something we can definitely fight, right? Something Dr. K can fight.” He adds pointedly.

Richie sags against Eddie, lets him wrap his arm around him and keeps gripping tightly at his shirt. Then he looks at Ben. Ben gives him the smallest of nods, knowingly, and after a pause, Richie returns it. Nothing more is needed, and Ben feels trusted, which does make him feel a little bit better.

His breaths are settling down again. “Well, that sucked.” He rasps once he’s calmer, looking off tiredly.

“Do you want to talk about it, Richie?” Bev asks. Richie shakes his head.

“Didn’t puke this time.” He says instead. “That’s something.” He still looks shaken and he swallows hard, but Ben, Beverly and Eddie laugh nervously, relieved.

Mike doesn’t.

“Eddie…”

“Alright, alright, Mike.” He snaps, exasperatedly. “His fever has definitely gone down, but not all the way. You feeling better, Richie?”

Richie nods tentatively. “Yeah, I think so. Not great, but.” He concludes his sentence with a shrug.

“Do you think you can stand?” Mike asks, and Richie nods again. Ben helps him slowly to his feet. There’s still some heat radiating from him, and Ben doesn’t let go until he’s confident Richie’s relatively steady on his feet. Eddie gives him back his glasses and clothes.

“Try not to… overdo it? I guess?” Eddie warns him, hearing himself and realizing how ridiculous that sounded since they’re about to go face off a monster clown.

“Funny, that’s not what your mom said last night.”

“Fuck you.” Eddie retorts, but there’s a huge smile on his face. If Richie’s feeling up to mom jokes, maybe he’s well enough for now to take on the clown. Then, maybe they’re all up to taking on the clown. He takes one look at Henry Bowers’ discarded body, at the axe protruding from his head, and for the second time that day he conjures up the image of Richie Tozier swinging a baseball bat. _And now, I’m gonna have to kill this fucking clown_.

Ben searches his soul for loneliness and finds none. He looks at Richie and finds not a stranger, but a friend. As it should be.

“Do you think Bill’s there yet?” Beverly asks worriedly.

“The fair is far away,” Mike replies, “if we hurry, we can catch up to him.”

They all follow Mike outside, and Ben feels strong being in the middle of them. Eddie is trailing behind to watch over Richie, and Ben isn’t trying to eavesdrop, he swears, but he can hear Richie nonetheless say very, very softly:

“Thanks, Dr. K.”

“You’re welcome, asshole.”

Ben smiles and takes Beverly’s hand. They can do this. He truly believes they can.


End file.
